And all the myrtle’s luscious scent instilled:
Lastly, he swore by every power above,
By Venus’ self, the potent Queen of Love,
That you, blest nymph, forever should remain
Exempt from amorous care, from amorous pain.
What wonder, then, such balmy sweets should flow
In every grateful kiss your lips bestow?
What wonder, then, obdurate maid, you prove
Averse to all the tenderness of love?
